


Longing

by Capucine



Category: Bad Blood - Taylor Swift (Music Video)
Genre: Friendship, Friendship Crush, Gen, squish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 22:06:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4322511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One of three girls who makes up The Trinity, 89, wants to be friends with Frostbyte. However, it's harder to make friends than she thought it was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longing

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [23emotions](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/23emotions) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Adronitis:  
> (n) Frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

89 was one third of The Trinity. There had once been many more of them, but through a particularly diabolical attack on the clones, only three remained. 88, 89, and 90.

They'd been dubbed The Trinity by The Crimson Curse, a red-haired firecracker. Ever since she'd spotted Crimson Curse's red hair, she'd been using her internet connection through her brain to look up ways to get hair so red. It wasn't natural at all.

So, yes, The Trinity knew The Crimson Curse quite well.

But who 89 wanted to know, right about that time, was Frostbyte. She was all cool elegance, all beauty, moving like melting ice and snow flurries. Slow and calculated one moment, fast as a furious blizzard the next.

She was supposed to be developed to work in particularly cold weather. This 89 knew from all she'd downloaded on her.

Frostbyte was said to be a calm presence, a good person to talk to.

There was just one problem: 89 could not leave her post. She couldn't venture into new areas to see Frostbyte, or get to know her the way other women could.

She tried to talk details out of The Crimson Curse, but it was a lost battle.

“Oh, Frostbyte? Yeah, she's cool—ha, cool. Anyway, she's got a wicked handle on chain weapons. There's that Chinese one she uses, it can cut really well, and then there's the one with the sickles, I think, that one is dangerous, and oh, right, there's the rope one she uses too, that's for when she needs to be more inconspicuous and can't carry a decent chain on her person—it's smaller, you see, though the edge is just as cutting--”

“Thank you, Crimson Curse,” 89 said, feeling 88 and 90's eyes on her.

Crimson Curse laughed. “Hey, did you also know she's modified to withstand temperatures as low as like, something like 50 below? Without serious snow equipment? That's why she nearly dies every summer. Literally.”

“Literally means--” 88 started, but Crimson Curse cut her off with a kind nod.

“Don't worry, I know what it means,” Crimson Curse said, a sort of grin on her face. She pinched 88's cheek, adding, “But look at you. I swear you find definitions the fastest.”

88 seemed to glow at that, and that was the end of talking about Frostbyte.

Frostbyte did not often need put together. She didn't often need armor, whatever her missions were, and she didn't often get destroyed. 89 assumed this meant she was very good at her job, and also that she often did things that didn't have a high likelihood of being gunned down.

Then, the majority of them did not bother with armor.

It was three more days until 89 saw Frostbyte again. She was coming in for winter-style armor, stuff that wouldn't be embrittled by the extreme cold she was going into. The internet said it was winter outside, about ten degrees Fahrenheit, though of course these numbers and words did not mean much to 89. She had only felt what cold was once, and that was when she had nearly died in the attack on the clones.

Frostbyte stood there, arms patiently held out, feet a bit apart, classic posture for someone being armored up.

88 and 90 were saying nothing. It was up to 89.

“Hello,” she tried, that word that The Crimson Curse usually greeted them with.

She could practically feel 88 and 90's curious gazes on her, but they did nothing else to indicate hearing her.

Frostbyte glanced over. “Hello. How are you today?”

89 swallowed thickly. “I... I am well. I just finished downloading information on subzero weather.”

A hint of a smile on Frostbyte's face. “Ah. I often work in those temperatures.”

“I know,” 89 said, clicking a helmet over Frostbyte's coiffed hair. “They are very cold temperatures.”

A small laugh came out of Frostbyte's mouth. “Yes, they are.”

“Done,” said 90, clicking on the last piece.

A sort of lurch went through 89's chest. She wanted to know Frostbyte. She wanted to get past the friendly hellos. 

But Frostbyte was already walking away.

It would be a week before she saw her again.

She looked regenerated, and she was wearing dark lipstick once again. She stood still for them to suit her up, prepare her for diving into the icy sea. 

“Hello,” 89 tried again, and once again, she got 88 and 90's bemused glances.

“Hello,” Frostbyte returned. “How are you today?”

“I'm... still well.” She had to get beyond the pleasantries. She wanted a true friend in Frostbyte, and so she hurriedly said, “What's your favorite color?”

An eyebrow raised, Frostbyte said, “White.”

She didn't ask in return, but 89 tried anyway. “Mine's white too. I see a lot of it.”

“Mm.”

That wasn't even a word. 89 felt a sort of weird feeling in her chest, knowing that their time would end quickly. “What do you like best about snow?”

“It's pretty,” Frostbyte shrugged. Then she went back to staying completely still.

Disappointment was already flooding 89 as 88 put the last waterproof stitching over Frostbyte's leg.

“Done,” 90 announced again.

Frostbyte started to step out of the room, but 89 wouldn't let it slip away. She had to know her, she wanted so badly to know her, that she started to walk after her.

“Wait!”

Frostbyte turned around, seeing 89 twist her feed. “You'd best be more careful with your equipment...is something wrong?”

89's face flushed, and she stepped back into place. “No... no, nothing's wrong.”

Frostbyte nodded, and walked away.

88 and 90 each put a hand on 89's shoulder.

“Psychological attachments can develop even without reciprocation,” 88 said.

“You'll be all right,” 90 said.

89 just ducked her head down. Why was it so hard to make friends?


End file.
